


maybe the devil's gonna find me tonight

by notthebigspoon



Series: Jet Black Sky Is Painted White Again [6]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brandon Belt: sexually conflicted... except when he's been drinking tequila.</p><p>Title taken from Whiskey in Churches by Cassidy Haley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe the devil's gonna find me tonight

There's plans to take Kontos out to celebrate his first win and while Hunter thinks that's nice and all, he's really just not up for the crowd. He takes the elevator up with Brandon and Lincecum, saying a quiet good night to both of them before heading down the hall to his room. He likes being around the corner, away from everyone else. It's quieter down here and he has more privacy.

Which is a good thing, because as he's unlocking a door, Belt presses full length against his back and kisses his neck and then his ear. “Know you said you didn't feel like going out but I hope you weren't planning on being alone.”

Hunter blinks as the door pops open, bracing one hand against the door frame and leaning back into Brandon. It's a surprise given everything that happened the day before, but it's a pleasant one. He smiles over his shoulder.

“Okay, somebody's in a good mood.”

“What? I can't be happy to see you?”

“It's a nice change of pace from yesterday.” Hunter answers. He ignores the flinch, turning in Brandon's embrace and sliding his arms around the younger man's neck, leaning in for a kiss. He oofs, laughing into it when Belt grabs his ass and starts backing him into the hotel room, kicking the door shut behind them.

Definitely better than yesterday.

He sprawls back on the bed when Brandon pushes him before sitting up. He kicks his shoes off and pulls his short over his head, licking his lips when Brandon does the same. This relationship isn't entirely shallow... Hunter likes Brandon, he really does. But with his shirt off and his jeans hanging low on his hips, all Hunter can think about is biting Brandon's hips and abs before blowing him until he can't form a coherent thought. Well, it'd be a sin to waste a good idea.

There's nothing about Brandon that doesn't do something for him, Hunter's learning. He grips Brandon's hips, pulling him close and pressing open mouthed kisses along his stomach. Brandon shudders and moans, hand going to the waist of his jeans to undo the buttons. Hunter shakes his head, rolling to the side and off the bed.

“Nope. Nuh uh. Not gonna make it that easy for you baby.” Hunter pants, shaking his head. “Let's slow this down. Want to have a little fun with you first.”

His only answer is a frustrated noise and a huff as Brandon throws himself onto the bed. Hunter smirks over his shoulder and grabs one of the bags from that morning's grocery outing. He pitches a salt shaker and a lime at the bed, snickering when Brandon flips him off. Hunter responds by tossing him the bottle of tequila.

Brandon picks it up, waving it around with a grin. "Doesn't booze count as a processed food, paleo boy?" 

"Look, Belt, do you want to do body shots or not? Because I can find someone else." 

“You wouldn't dare.”

“Care to try me?”

Brandon scowls at him but Hunter just smiles again, kissing him before cutting and sectioning the lime. He climbs into Brandon's lap, knees on either side of his hips and hands Brandon the salt with a grin. “C'mon baby... you first.”

There's no need to tell him twice. The first touch of Brandon's tongue across his neck brings back memories of the night before and it takes all of Hunter's effort to keep his shaking hands by his sides. Salt, lick, tequila, lime. He fists his hand into Brandon's hair, yanking him forward into a kiss that tastes of tequila and lime.

At some point, Brandon refuses to hand the bottle over for Hunter's shot. Instead he drops it onto the dresser and pushes Hunter off of his lap and onto the mattress. He shoves Hunter's arms above his head and pins his wrists, crushing their lips together for a kiss that's rough and almost angry. As it turns out, a drunk baby giraffe is a forceful and demanding one. Hunter likes it.

The first two times were slow, easy, Hunter taking the lead and showing Brandon where to go and what to do. This time it's more like he's along for the ride, lifting his hips for Brandon to tug his jeans down and off. He watches Brandon throw them before reaching onto the night stand for the lube from the night before. He slicks his fingers, waits until he has one pressed knuckle deep into Hunter before smirking, “Y'trust me?”

“If.... nngh, more. If this is what it gets me, then I trust the _hell_ out of you.” Hunter pants, hips jerking when Brandon pushes a second finger into him and bite his neck. He jerks against the movement, hands still pinned by Brandon's grip.

He doesn't surrender control like this for anyone. He doesn't know if it's the tequila he drank or if it's just something about Brandon that makes him want to give in. Doesn't matter though, not when he's feeling this good, when Brandon's making him so hard that he's aching and pleading for Brandon to just take him already.

“Well, since you're asking so nicely...”

Brandon rolls him onto his stomach before pulling him up onto his knees. Hunter hears the crackle of a condom wrapper and a slick noise. Then... then. He drops his head, moaning as Brandon pushes into him with slow, short thrusts, holding Hunter's hips in a bruising grip. He keeps it slow, gentle, using his grip to keep Hunter in place every time he tries to rock back, get more. Hunter almost sobs in frustration.

“What the _fuck_ , just-”

“Ask me nicely.”

Bastard. Evil, kinky bastard. Hunter's just drunk enough to not care, to beg without shame, ask for more, harder, deeper. Once he gets started, he can't stop, pleading for Brandon to touch him, fuck him, do something already. Brandon laughs, low and throaty, tells Hunter how gorgeous he is when he begs before pulling Hunter up, back to chest, and biting his neck. Hunter reaches behind him, grips Brandon's shoulder with one hand as he strokes himself with the other “Jesus... fuck, Brandon... please.”

“Y'know Pence... I could get off just listening to you beg. I really think I could.”

“You're not going to get off at all if you don't touch me soon.”

“Promises.”

He comes first, slouching bonelessly in Brandon's lap, whimpering which each rough shove of Brandon's dick into his body and flat out mewling when Brandon comes. He can't even stay up on his knees when Brandon pulls out, just sprawls out on the bed. The bed rises when Brandon's weight leaves it and Hunter can hear running water in the bathroom. He lets Brandon wipe him down before shifting his way under the blankets, sprawling forward with his head on Brandon's chest.

Brandon doesn't say anything, lays a hand across his back and rubs in slow circles. When Hunter looks up at him, he has a small, unreadable smile on his face. At Hunter's questioning glance, he just shakes his head, laughing softly. “Just wondering again why the hell I was ever afraid of this.”

“Easy. You're an idiot.”

“S'true. Sad but true.”

“First step to recovery or something. Now shut up and stop fucking with my afterglow.”

“Yes sir.”


End file.
